Page 7 of A Match Made in Coven (Paranormal Romance #2)

Chapter Seven

Under My Black Umbrella

LORCAN

The gothic cemetery, with its ancient, moss-covered tombstones and wrought-iron fences, stood as a silent witness to centuries of sorrow.

The angry gray sky wept an icy drizzle, creating a persistent, chilly dampness that seeped into bones and souls alike. Lorcan clenched his jaw against the sprays that attacked his black suit, the black umbrella he was holding up—one in a sea of many others—was almost useless under the deluge.

The priest’s solemn words washed over the damp mourners gathered around Elijah’s grave, interrupted only by the whistle of the wind rustling among the bare, gnarled oak branches that framed the macabre picture.

Since his best friend had been human, Lorcan was the only wizard at the function.

With a glaring exception. His eyes drifted across the open grave to a twin sea of black umbrellas, the figures huddled under them like crows perched in skeletal trees—faceless.

All except for one. Detective Sarah Michelle Callidora stood on the opposite side of the gaping hole in the earth, her gaze fixed straight ahead.

Raindrops glistened on wisps of hair escaping her short ponytail.

Despite the dreary weather and grim circumstances, she looked frustratingly beautiful in her civilian clothes—a tailored black trench coat emphasizing her slight curves.

Lorcan exhaled, his breath misting in the frigid air.

As if sensing his stare, those penetrating brown eyes locked with his. Lorcan met her assessing gaze head-on. The faintest of frowns creased her brow before she looked away.

Ah. Getting under the unflappable agent’s skin was proving to be an unexpected source of entertainment in this bleak situation.

The priest droned on, drawing Lorcan’s focus back to the service as the casket began its slow descent into the soggy earth.

He swallowed hard against the lump in his throat—his heart raged with sorrow and fury.

Elijah had been more than a business partner—he’d been a friend.

One of the few people Lorcan had allowed himself to trust. And now he was gone, his death as much a mystery as the secrets he’d taken to his grave.

Lorcan squared his shoulders under his damp suit jacket, resolve hardening his jaw. No matter how long it took or what magical strings he had to pull, he would unravel the truth behind Elijah’s murder.

Zoe’s soft sob beside him pulled Lorcan from his dark thoughts.

Now wasn’t the time for vengeance. Lorcan was here to pay his respects and support Elijah’s family however he could.

Zoe clung to his arm, her face a mask of grief as she watched her ex-husband’s casket disappear into the ground while Lorcan did his best to inconspicuously keep her upright.

Despite her and Elijah having been divorced over two years, she was devastated.

Elijah’s sister, her eyes red-rimmed and swollen, was huddled against her mother a few paces away. Both women shaking with tears, their sobs audible even over the thundering rain. Their wails grew more heartbreaking with every shovel of dirt that landed on the wooden casket.

By the time the priest spoke his final blessing, Lorcan was relieved the ordeal was over. He hoped having said goodbye would help them move on.

As the last shovelful of dirt settled onto the grave, the mourners dispersed, their umbrellas bobbing like scattered ink blots against the leaden sky. Lorcan remained rooted in place, his hand still resting on Zoe’s trembling shoulder.

Through the thinning crowd, he spotted Sarah Michelle making her way toward them, her steps purposeful despite the muddy ground.

Lorcan tensed, bracing himself for a confrontation.

Surely, she wouldn’t be so crass as to start interrogating Elijah’s grieving family mere moments after laying him to rest?

But as she drew closer, Lorcan was surprised to see no trace of the hard-nosed, relentless detective in her demeanor.

Her usually sharp eyes were softer, her full lips turned down at the corners.

She came to a stop before Zoe and offered her condolences to Elijah’s relatives with surprising empathy.

As Sarah Michelle stepped back from the grieving family, her gaze met Lorcan’s once more.

An unspoken understanding passed between them—a mutual drive to bring Elijah’s killer to justice.

She gave him a barely perceptible nod before turning and striding away, her black coat billowing behind her in the biting wind until she disappeared in the sea of umbrellas and the misty veil of rain.

***

The month of October was a grand spectacle in Salem. With the town’s witchy history and it being the most wizardly populated town in North America, the decorations had no rival in the country—except for New Orleans maybe, another city densely inhabited by magical folk.

The day after the funeral, Lorcan left his house at an unwizardly hour.

The crisp fall air crackled with magical energy as the morning sun struggled to pierce through the dense fog that had settled over Salem in the early hours.

Carved Jack-o’-lanterns adorned every shop window and front porch, unlit for now, but that later in the week would illuminate the grinning faces of trick-or-treating witchlings and humans alike.

But this year, Lorcan wasn’t feeling the holiday spirit.

As he strode through the empty streets, he had only one purpose in mind: to find Elijah’s killer.

The police hadn’t released the crime scene—their offices—so Lorcan couldn’t check in at work.

And the best thing he could think of besides searching Elijah’s desk for any clue the cops might’ve missed was to talk to Zoe.

Yes, it was early. But if her night had been anything like his, Elijah’s ex-wife would welcome the distraction of talking to someone, rather than lying in bed, agonizingly staring at the ceiling while grief threatened to crush her chest. At least, that’s how Lorcan had spent the past two nights.

Lorcan’s footsteps echoed off the damp cobblestones as he strolled through the quiet residential streets, a steaming cup of coffee in each hand.

As he turned the corner onto Zoe’s street, a familiar figure approaching from the opposite direction made him pause.

Even at this distance, the intent stride and the witch’s sleek, dark hair were unmistakable.

She spotted him, too, and her steps faltered before she continued toward him with renewed determination.

They met at the foot of Zoe’s short driveway, the tension between them palpable in the chilly morning air. Sarah Michelle’s eyes narrowed at Lorcan’s appearance, her gaze lingering on the two coffee cups he carried.

“Mr. Black,” she greeted coolly. “What brings you here so early?”

Lorcan quirked an eyebrow. “I could ask you the same thing, detective.”

Sarah Michelle’s shoulders stiffened. “I’m on official police business. Are you playing amateur sleuth?”

Her words hung in the misty air between them, sharp as the icy droplets clinging to the shorn tree branches above.

Lorcan met her stare head-on, unfazed by the accusation in her tone. He wanted to solve Elijah’s murder and had no trouble admitting it.

He lifted one of the steaming cups. “At least I brought coffee.”

Sarah Michelle blinked, thrown by his nonchalant response. Her gaze darted to the proffered cup that he withheld. “Not for you, sorry. But next time, let me know your poison and I’ll see what I can do.”

He didn’t wait for her reply. Lorcan strode up the driveway, leaving a flustered Sarah Michelle in his wake.

He could feel her glare boring between his shoulders as he climbed the porch steps.

But before he could ring the bell, the witch had dragged him back to his previous position with her magic, not even making the coffee in his cups slosh—eerily precise.

Lorcan raised a surprised eyebrow, searching the street for potential human witnesses. But Sarah Michelle must’ve already checked before using her spell. They were alone.

“This is an open investigation, Mr. Black . I could do without civilian interference.”

“I only wish to help, Detective Callidora .”

Before she could protest, he flipped a finger and sealed her lips with magic. “Before you say whatever you were about to say…”

Sarah Michelle muttered indignantly from behind her glued mouth, her scowl scary enough that he didn’t need to hear the death threats surely accompanying it.

He ignored her fury and pressed on. “I won’t get in your way.

Elijah was my friend. I want to find his killer as much as you.

Maybe even more.” Lorcan’s voice dropped as a fresh stab of pain jolted him.

“Whatever Zoe tells you, I can contextualize it. Help you make sense of it. I can make your job easier if only you’ll allow me. ”

He let the silence drag long enough to be annoying, then flicked his finger and unsealed her mouth. Sarah Michelle surprised him by turning around and facing the opposite way. Her shoulders rose and dipped.

“What are you doing?”

“Breathing.” She gritted her teeth. “Before I commit a murder myself.”

When she spun back to face him, she had a pleasant smile plastered on her face that was scarier than if she’d been showing him fangs—maybe besides wings, she had a pair of those, too.

“Mr. Black, you may be present while I speak with the former Mrs. Preston.” Then she leaned in close and whispered, “Use your filthy magic on me again and I’ll turn you into a rat and feed you to my ferret, starting with your ratty, little—”

“I get the picture, Detective Callidora,” he interrupted her. “No need to be crass.”

Then, as gallantly as he could, he gestured for her to move ahead and precede him up the driveway, much enjoying the sight of her perky behind swaying petulantly as she did.